Intersecting Lines
by Call-Me-Crazy.Cuz I Am
Summary: "Is it better to lose something amazing, or to never have had it in the first place?" Well, Edison Sweet is definitely going for the latter. He doesn't understand why he can't get Patricia out of his mind, or why he's been spending a lot of time lately hoping for their lines to intersect again . For Peddie One-Shot Day.


He can't say, honestly, that he doesn't miss his Yacker.

Of course, he'd like to pretend he doesn't. After all, his father already damages his street cred enough. All he needs is to be caught pining after a girl who was obviously 'as cool as a cucumber' and he's basically a social antelope- the prey of the jungle.

But still, the fact is that he can't stop himself from missing the softness of her red, strawberry-smelling hair, or how when she smirked, one eye went kinda skewed, and how she liked to sleep on his chest, curled up like a gothic cat when they lay on the sofa together.

And he misses the kicks in the night the worst.

See, whenever they slept in the same place, she always ended up "accidentally" kicking him in the stomach.

He generally woke up, swearing and fuzzy-headed, ready to end whoever had just disturbed his slumber, but Patricia would look at him with pleading, slightly foggy eyes, and crazy porcupine hair hanging all over her small frame, and he'd melt.

Like goddamn butter.

He's _Eddie Miller_ for godsakes! It's in his DNA to never get attached to one thing, to always remain cool and aloof and sarcastic, never really having any close friends.

After all, those who don't try never look foolish, and you can never lose anyone if you didn't have them to begin with.

And yet, the moment he stepped in to Anubis House, he was suddenly confronted with all of the…caring and fuzz y feelings in the pit of his stomach and all of the…need for each and everyone, besides Victor, in that house.

Because, against all expectations from those who knew him, he'd grown to care for all of them.

The nerdy, insecure boy he shared a room with.

The jokester and the charmer he made it his life's mission to out prank.

The dumb blonde who always entertained him and the genius who joined him on a wild-ghost chase.

The girl with the wavy brown hair whom he had to protect with everything he had.

And, if he was being honest, the Goth Pixie who had somehow won him over, despite some serious apprehension on his part, was the one he cared about the most.

By a crapload.

He can't even look at a bed anymore without remembering the nights in America they spent together, curled up, laughing, touching, kissing….

And even though he knows he should, he can't bring himself to ask for the leather jacket he loaned her back. Because he knows that if she gave it back it would smell like her, and he can't go around wearing a jacket smelling like strawberries, because….

Well, if he's being honest, it's because he's not sure he could stop himself from randomly sniffing it, just to pretend that they're still where they were when summer break started, back when he could look her in the eyes without feeling a strange mix of longing, embarrassment, and regret.

But because he can't go around looking like a lovesick bum –he's not Fabian, for the love of god- he refrains from looking at her. Which, whenever they're in the same room, becomes increasingly heard because his treacherous eyes love to drift over her.

So instead he does what he's doing now, in his free time:

He lays on the couch with Sick Puppies playing through his earbuds, and he thinks stupid, lonely thoughts.

He decides to close his eyes for just a moment, to let his thoughts settle down.

But just a moment turns into half an hour, which turns into two hours, and pretty soon he's napped through dinner and the sun has already gone down.

He lays there, peacefully dreaming, until he receives a sharp blow to his stomach and jolts awake.

Somehow he's ended up on the carpet, rolled up in a blanket somebody –cough, cough, Mara- draped over him, Patricia is lying across from him, still sleeping, and his stomach aches with that all-too familiar pain.

But he doesn't mind it, not at all.

In fact, he kinda wants her to kick him again, because the action makes him think of happier times for them, moments that…..well, let's just say, he certainly did _not_ want his mother to _ever_ find out about them.

_Ever_.

He rests his head on his arm and, feeling slightly stalkerish, watches her sleep. Her eyelashes flutter up and down each time that she breathes, and she makes these little moan-like sounds as she dreams.

And suddenly, he's reminded of a quote he once heard.

At first, he dismissed it as nerdy and pathetic, but he can't help but see the truth of it now.

_Some people think it's sad that parallel lines go their whole lives never meeting.. _

_Ever. _

_But I think it's even sadder that all other pairs of lines only meet once, and then drift part for the rest of their lives. _

He winces at the complete nerdiness of it all, but he sees it now.

Some couples, like Fabian and Joy, never really met. Never got to the same relationship page, so even though Joy liked Fabian, he wasn't where she was. Dear ol' Fabes was reading a completely book, one titled "The Joys of Nina Martin."

And then other couples, like him and Patricia, they meet only once.

Doesn't matter how long it last –a few days, a few months, even a few years.

But after that one relationship goes down the drain and the one chance is up, bam- now you've got nothing left but memories to torture you with, always, wondering what would've happened if your lines intersected one more time.

But they don't, and now you're stuck with the memory of what once was, and the reality of what is.

See, right now, he remembers being in this situation before, only in a time when it was okay for him to pull Patricia towards him and cuddle her to his chest. But the reality is that he can't do that anymore. Their lines have already intersected once. They've had their shot. Time to move on, Eddie ol' pal.

And then he thinks, _Screw reality and weird intersecting lines. _

And he reaches out and gently pulls Patricia's sleeping form towards his chest, cradling her to him in a way that screams I AM A LONELY LOSER WHO CAN'T GET OVER MY EX-GIRLFRIEND!

Cough, cough, Fabian.

For a moment, they lay there, him cradling her, her red hair fanning in across his nose and mouth and the soft sound of her breathing lulling him to sleep.

He closes his eyes, wishing he could freeze himself in that moment.

All is good for maybe half a minute.

And then two things happen.

One, Patricia kicks him in the stomach again.

And two, a camera goes off.

Both of their eyes snap open, and he bolts up.

"Aww, don't the little lovebirds look cute and cozy?" Jerome's smirking face popped up above the edge of the couch.

"Jerry-" He starts furiously.

"I thought you two broke up?" Joy grins from ear to ear knowingly.

"Yeah, why are you two cuddling? That's defiantly very couple-ish." Amber's wide blue eyes bounce back between both of them.

"Get off, Slimeball!" Patricia says, throwing Eddie's arms off of her. "Honestly, get grabby while I'm sleeping? Are you really that sex-crazed?"

"I, uh, am not responsible for my….subconscious?" He tries.

"Right." She glares at him, but there's a glimpse of…amusement in her eyes. "Well, make sure it happens again."

"I think…you made a mistake there, Yacker." He smirks.

"Did I?" Patricia raises her eyebrows and immediately blushes as she realizes.

"Oh, cut it with the bottled sexual tension!" Alfie groaned. "Look, either have an insane snogging session or murder each other already!"

He opens his mouth to interject a sarcastic comment, when suddenly, Patricia's lips are on his with a soft, familiar pressure and his sleep-dazed mind can barely comprehend what's happening.

When she pulls away, he is maybe even more confused then he was the first time he started liking her.

And then the camera goes off again.

"Ah, this'll look very pretty on the Internet, now won't it?" Jerome grinned evilly and then proceeded to make a mad dash for his room.

"I should, uh, go stop him. From-" Patricia shifts, obviously uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I get it." He stammers.

As she leaves, he watches her, memorizing the way her hips swing and the way she runs her hands through her tangled red hair.

And then he falls back on the floor and decides to ask Trudy for aspirin to treat the headache he knows is coming.

Because, contrary to all his beliefs, their lines have just intersected again.

For how long, he doesn't know. But he's willing to ride it out, whether it be a day or fifty years.

After all, when you finally find that person, the one whose line you're meant to intersect with?

Screw geometry, you do _everything_ in your power to make sure they meet again.


End file.
